Pathway Pioneers: A look at supervised practice bar alternatives in 2 states
What if instead of taking the bar exam, you could get paid to work in a law office in a rural location under the close watch of an experienced attorney? Would you do it?
Conversely, if you were an established lawyer who could mentor a talented aspiring attorney who promised to spend a chunk of time working in your small city or town, would you? How much time would it take?
With supervised practice programs popping up around the country as alternatives to the bar exam, the ABA Journal talked to bar candidates in South Dakota and Arizona who chose to take part in these new, unproven programs and asked how it was going.
We also contacted the candidates’ supervisors to hear how the program impacted their workload, whether the provisionally licensed candidates met expectations and whether they’d participate in the program again.
Same goals, different methods
While the basic goals of the two states’ programs are the same—helping students gain more hands-on practical experience while helping ease access-to-justice struggles—each has been tailored to that state’s needs.
In South Dakota, a state with 2.2 lawyers per 1,000 residents according to the ABA, the Public Service Pathway pilot program approved in February 2025 offers 10 University of South Dakota Knudson School of Law students the chance to work for 500 hours in a rural office in lieu of their fifth semester in law school.
The program serves as an alternative to taking the bar exam if participants commit to two years of public service. Students must develop portfolios of eight pieces of work demonstrating legal writing skills that bar examiners review for minimum competence along with 16 weekly reflections on what they learned from that week’s activities, what was successful and what could be improved. They must also pass the Multistate Professional Responsibility Examination and the character and fitness component of the admission process, as well as pass all of their remaining law school courses. Once all hurdles have been cleared, the candidates can be sworn in right after graduation.
Arizona, with 2.1 lawyers per 1,000 residents, is taking a different approach. The state’s Uniform Bar Exam pass score of 270—among the highest in the country—has prompted many who just missed that mark to head to other jurisdictions, state officials say.
To stem the outflow, the state supreme court in 2024 launched the Arizona Lawyer Apprentice Program, offering a second chance to those who came within 10 points of passing. Those candidates can be given a provisional license while serving two years under an experienced attorney in a public or private law office located in rural Arizona. If they meet standards, they can then become fully licensed in the state.
Since the Arizona candidates have graduated and taken the bar, the requirements for the program are less stringent than South Dakota’s, with far fewer progress reports and written requirements. To date, 56 ALAP licenses have been issued, according to the state supreme court.
Neither state allows these candidates to transfer these licenses to another state’s bar immediately, something each of the candidates interviewed said didn’t really concern them.
All said they gained valuable court experience and got to know the system, the judges, and other attorneys while shaking out the newbie jitters before the court.
And the supervisors agreed that the mandatory hands-on practical experience comes with high expectations and was not the easy way out as far as joining the bar. All say the experience was positive overall, and they’d take another candidate in the program.
Traci Smith and Emily Whitney. (Photo by Betsy Doyle)
Emily Whitney
University of South Dakota Knudson School of Law class of 2026
When Emily Whitney took a job as a legal office assistant at Minnehaha County’s Public Defender’s Office during a gap year before starting law school, she knew she wanted to be in public service.
“I fell in love with how often they got to meet with clients, how every day was different, how interactive it was,” says the Sioux Falls native. “I always knew that I wanted to go back to that office specifically.”
When Neil Fulton, dean of the Knudson School of Law, announced the state’s new pathway program in February 2025, “it sounded perfect for me,” she says.
Not everyone was on board. Initially, Traci Smith, chief public defender for the county, was not a fan of the program.
“I thought this was a horrible idea, this program being an alternative to passing the bar exam would just be more of that negative perception as public defenders not being real lawyers,” she says. “We don’t want people who can’t pass the bar working in our office.”
But after seeing the qualifications and demands for the candidates, Smith’s attitude did a 180.
“It truly had to be for people who were interested in public service,” says Smith, who signed on to be Whitney’s supervisor. “And I saw it as a good recruitment tool.”
Whitney, who started the 16-week program in the Minnehaha County office where she once was an assistant on Aug. 11, says she had her “own little caseload,” working five days a week from 8 a.m. until 5 p.m. Her days included working with clients and observing court proceedings, including felony-level cases, and sometimes handling hearings for other attorneys.
The provisional license allowed Whitney to handle a broad variety of work, but a supervisory attorney was required to join her in the courtroom.
“As long as we were with that licensed attorney, we were fine,” Whitney says.
Still, her first appearance was nerve-racking. “It was just a pretrial conference asking for continuance, and my heart was beating out of my chest,” she says.
Over time, she became comfortable. “Getting some little mistakes out of the way was a big deal for me. That gave me more confidence than taking the bar exam ever would,” she adds. “At the end of my placement, I would handle three or four of those hearings at a time.”
Whitney acknowledges the downsides.
Time-documentation requirements were stringent. “We needed to log hours in 6-minute increments for county but also 15-minute increments for the Pathways program,” she says.
Judge feedback was required, but “not common,” Whitney says. “Instead, we would write down if they had a comment to ‘add this next time,’ or if they indicated that they wanted further information.”
Because many of her cases were suppression or Fourth Amendment issues and each writing project required a different topic, she found workarounds for the writing requirements, such as submitting questions for a hearing or the written version of a sentence modification.
Also, she missed hanging out with her classmates for a semester. “They were in a school setting, whereas I was working full time,” she says.
For the supervisor, the program turned out to be a heavy lift, Smith says. “Everything they do, we have to provide feedback. It was a lot more work than I originally had anticipated.”
But overall, both call it a success. Whitney, still waiting to hear if she passed her final classes, received a job offer at the office and will start May 27, after she is sworn in that day.
Unlike many new lawyers who come to public service to gain trial experience before quickly moving on to private practice, “with Pathways, you know the time you’re expending is not wasted. These students are passionate about being in public service,” Smith says. “She is going to hit the ground running.”
“It’s an unmatched opportunity,” Whitney says. “You learn a lot about law. You learn a lot about yourself. You gain confidence.”
Dylan Hendel and Lori Zucco. (Photo by Bert Whitehead IV)
Dylan Hendel
Arizona State University Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law class of 2023
When Dylan Hendel’s February 2024 bar exam score fell a few points short of Arizona’s pass score, “it was a difficult moment,” the Scottsdale, Arizona, native says. “It touched on so many emotions: hopelessness, embarrassment.”
Instead of practicing law near Phoenix as the Arizona State University Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law grad assumed he would, he became licensed in Minnesota, where his score surpassed that state’s 260 pass score and close friends lived.
But in July 2024, he changed directions again after learning about the new Arizona Lawyer Apprentice Program, jumping at the second chance. He became the state’s first candidate in the program, taking an offer to be a deputy county attorney in the civil division in rural Cochise County.
In Bisbee, a desert town of about 5,000 people, Hendel handles a variety of cases, including ones regarding the county’s water rights that stand in the way of development as well as property tax litigation.
“I also get to work on election law issues,” he adds. “At this very early part of my career, it is really cool.”
ALAP requires supervisors to attend candidates’ court hearings. At first, his supervisor sat next to him, but now, 18 months into the program, she simply sits in the back of the courtroom, he says.
“When I first started, I did not have any confidence,” he adds, “but after all this time, I feel very confident just stepping into court and announcing myself on behalf of my clients.”
Working in an understaffed office can mean long days and working weekends. “Everyone’s just got to roll up their sleeves and get to work,” he says.
He notes that members of his law school cohort who went directly to urban law firms have far less hands-on experience. “My classmates still have never stepped foot in court. They don’t get to write emails on their own. They don’t get to take or defend a deposition on their own. They don’t ever get to speak to the client on their own.”
Hendel’s pathway hit an unexpected bump when his supervisor was arrested in December on charges unrelated to work in the office. Then, County Attorney Lori Zucco became his supervisor.
“Dylan really stepped up in a leadership role, and he’s basically been the go-to person for the board of supervisors, for the sheriff,” Zucco says. “I don’t even remember that he’s with ALAP half of the time because he’s so advanced.”
Hendel meets with Zucco nearly every day. While much of his ALAP paperwork and mandatory meeting requirements have been met, Zucco will need to sign off on the quality of his work for him to be licensed.
“I’d do that tomorrow,” Zucco says.
When the program ends, Hendel is unsure what is next.
“I have a nice friend group down here and, after all this time you become ingrained in the community,” he says. “I don’t know where I’ll go.
“It’s been a gift and a privilege to be able to practice law,” he says. “It’s just an incredible opportunity to work with elected officials. It’s incredibly rewarding.”
Michael Powell and Jackie Lohn.
Jackie Lohn
Arizona Summit Law School, class of 2013
Jackie Lohn tried six times to reach Arizona’s 270 pass score after graduating law school in 2013, but fell short each time. For several years she worked in law-adjacent jobs—as a bailiff, paralegal and document reviewer.
When she learned about the Arizona Law Apprenticeship Program, or ALAP, she realized her February 2025 bar exam score would qualify.
“With the apprentice program, I could stay in Arizona, which is where I’m from, where I’ve been raised, where I want to be,” she says.
She accepted an offer in the criminal prosecution division at the Cochise County Attorney’s Office in October. “The beauty of our program is that I’ve been an attorney from day one,” she says.
As she stepped into the role of a deputy county attorney, an entry-level prosecutor, she received the same amount of supervision as anyone else, says Michael Powell, chief trial counsel and attorney supervisor at the Cochise County Attorney’s Office.
The first four months required hands-on supervision, but now, eight months in, there is less mandated supervision, with only a monthly check-in required.
“I’m off and running,” she says.
Lohn has handled between 250 and 300 cases since starting the program. While she operates more independently with the misdemeanors, the felonies require more oversight.
“She’s a new attorney, right?” Powell says. “We did her very first jury trial. The only difference in how I am supervising her is that I am helping her learn how to be a prosecutor. She’s a hard worker.”
In fact, Lohn’s pathway to the bar might give her extra motivation, he adds. “I get the feeling Jackie wants to prove that she’s just as much of an attorney as anybody else.”
Although working in Cochise County was never Lohn’s plan, “it’s turned out to be a great situation. I’m getting some very hands-on experience and mentorships and training.”
What she’ll do after the program remains to be determined. Her husband, a project manager, splits his time between Phoenix and Bisbee, a three-and-a-half-hour drive.
“We are still figuring it out,” she says. “I absolutely love the program. It feels like something that I was just meant to be doing.”
Karli Viher. (Photo by the University of South Dakota)
Karli Viher
University of South Dakota Knudson School of Law, class of 2026
When Karli Viher first heard about the state’s brand-new Pathway program, she applied and hoped to work in Pennington County and her hometown of Rapid City, South Dakota.
But she hedged her bets and landed a summer internship at that county’s state attorney’s office. Then, a few weeks later, she also was chosen by the same office to be in its very first Pathway cohort.
“It was scary being the first to do anything, especially with something that can impact your career that you’ve worked your whole life for,” she says. “You just have to be brave.”
Pathways extended her experience in that office from three months to seven to meet the four months required for the program. While the office and the people were familiar, once the Pathways program started, expectations for work and professionalism were very deliberately raised, says Lara Roetzel, Pennington County’s state’s attorney and Viher’s supervisor.
“We wanted her to think, ‘I’m not just an intern anymore. I’m going to be a lawyer soon, and these people are preparing me for that,’” Roetzel says.
Roetzel spent about 20 hours planning Viher’s Pathways workload to expose her to as many areas of the state’s attorney’s office as possible, ranging from civil practice to juvenile delinquency to criminal law at both the magistrate and the felony levels. Supervisors must attend mandatory training webinars and follow a guidebook on how to work with the candidate, she notes.
When the Pathways programs started, Viher started in the misdemeanor department, then later handled felonies, both with supervision. While Viher was required to work from 8 a.m. until 5 p.m., “she worked quite a bit more than that,” Roetzel says.
Each Monday, Viher met with her supervisor to read through writing projects, go over time sheets and discuss the required weekly reflective papers.
On Tuesdays, she started work at 7 a.m. to “charge out all of the cases from the night, day and night before,” she says.
Some days she went to victims’ meetings, and one day each week would typically be spent in court.
There, she’d field questions from other attorneys about the Pathways program. “I’ve had people say that maybe they don’t agree and that they think the bar is a better pathway,” she says. “But that’s OK. People are entitled to their opinion.”
Viher and Roetzel found keeping two sets of time logs—one for the office and one for the program—tedious. “It was taxing,” Roetzel says.
Roetzel spent about five hours weekly with Viher and watched her grow. Early on, there were questions centered on logistics, like how to make a long distance phone call, “but towards the end, it was fun. I could have real conversations about legal issues and trial strategy conversations—high-level stuff.”
While coming back to school for the final semester “was a bit weird but also exciting,” Viher enjoyed it. She has since passed the MPRE and is awaiting her final grades.
She’ll head back to the Pennington County State’s Attorney’s Office once she’s sworn in on May 27.
She’s glad she took the Pathway. “It did really solidify that this is what I want to do,” Viher says. “Even if every day isn’t the best day of my life, I love this job.”
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